


Do Not Touch

by VivaVia (QueenFisher)



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-13
Updated: 2014-02-13
Packaged: 2018-01-12 06:04:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1182765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenFisher/pseuds/VivaVia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>To be honest, Greg wasn’t entirely sure what had happened until after the whole event was over.  He had gone to Baker Street to see if Sherlock had any new information on the latest string of murders, and to inform him that a new body had been found. He could see the detective twitching with anticipation as he explained and was positive the only reason Sherlock hadn’t bolted out the door was the four-year-old coloring on the coffee table.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Do Not Touch

**Author's Note:**

> I only own Anastasia Holmes. Everyone else belongs to BBC/Conan Doyal, or whoever.

To be honest, Greg wasn’t entirely sure what had happened until after the whole event was over.  He had gone to Baker Street to see if Sherlock had any new information on the latest string of murders, and to inform him that a new body had been found. He could see the detective twitching with anticipation as he explained and was positive the only reason Sherlock hadn’t bolted out the door was the four-year-old coloring on the coffee table.

“Can you come, or,” Lestrade finished his sentence by gesturing to Ana. Sherlock looked at the girl, thinking for a moment, before responding.

“I’ll meet you at Bart’s,” he said. Greg nodded; he had to stop off at the yard first anyway. He assumed Sherlock would drop Ana off with Mrs. Hudson, or John, or even Mycroft. He didn’t expect to open the door of the corridor to the morgue greeted by shrill shrieks.

He could hear the screaming even before he entered the hallway. He’d brushed them off as something- he wasn’t sure what. When the pushed the door open, the sounds became higher and clearer, and were certainly coming from the morgue. Suddenly worried, Greg rushed the rest of the way down the hall and threw open the door to the morgue.

“Lestrade no!” Sherlock and Molly shouted at him simultaneously. It was too late, the source of the screams had caught him off his guard and Ana barreled past him into the hall, shrieking something about bodies.

“You brought her here, you get her,” Molly snapped throwing her arms up in defeat.

“She was perfectly fine until you wheeled Mr. Crane in!” Sherlock protested.

“It’s a morgue! There are supposed to be dead bodies! Not toddlers!” shouted Molly. “Go fine Ana!”

“Greg let her out,” said Sherlock turning to the inspector, who was still standing in the same spot, a look of pure horror and confusion on his face.

“Now you get my name right,” he said finally. “I think she went left. Towards the elevators.”

“Shit,” muttered Sherlock, giving in and pushing past Lestrade after his daughter. Molly let out a frustrated huff and returned to the autopsy table.

“You had to tell him there was a new body,” she said, snapping on another pair of plastic gloves.

“I didn’t think he’d take her with him,” said Lestrade. “What was she shouting about anyway?”

“She was angry because I wouldn’t let her help me with the autopsy,” Molly said. “She said the body looked ‘squishy’ and she wanted to touch it.” Greg broke down, clinging to the counter as he howled with laughter.

“Oh, go ahead,” Molly grumbled. “I should have thought of this before I married a bloody Holmes.”

“How about before you allowed a Holmes to reproduce,” Lestrade said, managing to pull himself together.

“His parents are lovely! I was hoping it skipped a generation or something,” Molly said, but the anger was gone from her voice. Greg smirked. The door to the morgue banged open and Sherlock entered, carrying a struggling Ana. Molly sighed heavily as he placed her on the linoleum floor and she immediately sprinted to the table where Mr. Crane was laying with no less then eight gunshot wounds.

“I wanna see again, let me see again,” she said, bouncing up and down gripping the table with two small hands. Molly knelt next to her and pushed the goggles she was wearing on top of her head.

“Anastasia, calm down,” she said. Ana turned away from the table and towards her mother, but didn’t stop hopping around. Molly placed her hands on the small girl’s shoulders and put some of her hair behind her ear. Her ponytail had fallen out sometime during her tantrum, and the mess of black curls she had inherited from her father had sprung out in all directions.

“Do you remember what I said about the body? And how only grown-ups are allowed to touch it? The same way only grown-ups are allowed to go to crime scenes?”

“It’s not faiiiir,” Ana whined. “Daddy told me I could come, I wanted to come.” Molly shot Sherlock a dirty look before answering.

“You can only come for visits,” Molly said calmly. “And when you visit you can’t touch. Do not touch, Ana. Remember?”

“Please?” And said, putting her hands together and making a face. She was nearly as good at manipulated people to get her was as Sherlock was. It didn’t help that her Uncle Mycroft hadn’t said no to her even one in her life.

“Give me strength,” Molly muttered before responding. “No. Daddy’s going to take you home and he’s not allowed to come back until he gets someone to watch you.” She directed the last sentence at her husband, who was leaning over the body and inspecting it.

“What? Why me?” he demanded when he heard her.

“Because you brought her here!” Molly said, straightening up. Ana huffed and whined a bit more, but Molly ignored her.

“Look, Sherlock, just take her to Mrs. Hudson. Or John, or Mary, or anyone. But do not bring her back here. Understand?”

“Molly I have a case-,”

“He’s dead! He’s not going anywhere, Sherlock,” said Molly. “Bring Ana home, come back. I promise you Mr. Crane will still be here.” Molly placed the goggled back on and turned to leave the room.

“Where are you going?” Sherlock demanded.

“I’m still at work! I’ve got two more autopsies and about a foot of paperwork before I can come home,” Molly called back, disappearing into her office without looking back. Sherlock growled to himself. Greg had been standing still the entire time, not wanting to get in-between the detective and his pathologist.

“I can take her if you want,” he said finally.”

“No, no, I’ve got it,” said Sherlock, taking his cellphone from his pocket and dialing a number. Greg shrugged and went over to the body.

“John, there’s been an emergency,” Sherlock was saying into the phone. “Baker Street, now. Please.” Greg looked up and scowled. Sherlock kept talking, trying to convince John, that his presence was imperative. Finally he hung up, a smug grin on his face.

“Common Ana,” he said. “Let’s go visit Uncle John.” Ana hopped up from where she had been sulking on the floor and rushed over to her father, forgetting the disappointment of not seeing the body.

“You’re a bastard,” said Greg. Sherlock smirked again as he held open the door for Ana.

“Be back in a few Lestrade. Do try to refrain from contaminating the body even more,” he said. The door slammed behind him as he and Ana vanished down the hall.

 


End file.
